3. The Secret Life of Shalia Decauteur

The Secret Life of Shalia Decauteur


  • (( you keep using that word, but I do no think it means what you think it means 😄 ))

  • ?

    The Price of a Promise I

    Shalia sat for hours in the room, thinking, contemplating what she had done after she had cried out all the tears she could. She couldn’t let this stand as it was. She had to put things right and back in their proper place. But how? She had already broken her word in so many ways.

    Oddly, she remembered the time that Moira tried to teach her to play a yarting. Oh how had Shalia hated learning the instrument, for it had seemed she would never quite understand how the finger placements or chords worked. And her fingers were so long…they always seemed as though they were getting tangled together. She continued to practice, every day, getting worse and worse it seemed, until the day she threw down the instrument onto the floor in frustration.

    “I’m never going to learn how to play this thing Moira! Never! I hate it!” said the little ten year old girl, crossing her arms in stubbornness.

    Moira sighed, putting down her own instrument, and picking up the one that had been thrown to the floor. “Are you always going to give up so easily?” Moira asked. The elderly woman took the child’s hands, and brought her to stand before her. “Just calm yourself my dear. Things aren’t as bad as you think.” Giving Shalia a reassuring smile, she gestured for her to sit on a nearby stool. Moira placed the instrument in Shalia’s hands, and moved the girl’s fingers to a more comfortable position. Guiding them in their movement across the strings, Moira then changing their placement producing a soft melody. The notes were beautiful and clear, resonating off of the cottage walls. “If you fail in one way my dear, then just find another,” said Moira, mussing Shalia’s hair.

    Shalia bounced her head on the back of the wall, deep in thought and frustration. Was she giving up too easily? She hadn’t thought so, but… Maybe there was something else she could do. Bounding off of the bed, she scanned the room, locating her pack. Finding a small sheet of parchment, a quill, and inkpot, she gathered the items in her arms, and sat on the floor, writing furiously. Stopping once or twice to reconsider the phrasing of a particular passage, she chewed on the bottom of her lip thoughtfully. Shaking her head in resignation, she wrote down the entire truth of the matter. Lies had gotten her into this terrible mess, and Sune help her she would avoid doing so again if it was possible. Completing the letter, she gathered her things into her pack, slinging it over her shoulder. Hurrying out of the Inn, she made her way through Peltarch in the direction of the Temple.

    If Priestess Daisy could some how send word to Durai’s mother within short time, then perhaps she could send a message to Aglarond in a quick manner as well, couldn’t she?

    Shalia carried her message into the temple, and asked the Priestess there for a favor.

    She hoped she would be able to keep her promise. If not this way, she would find another.

  • ?

    Unraveled

    Her dreams gave her no shelter to hide from what she had tried to do, and what she had done. She had lied, and had been lying to Durai. And to try to save herself from the consequences of what she had done, she had tried to trick him into marriage. But she had told him the truth. And in doing so, she had betrayed her word to her Priestess.

    She had betrayed her church.
    She had nearly lost Durai.
    And soon she would lose her home.

    The same dream repeated itself over and over in her mind. She, Durai, and a shadowy figure were standing on a plain in the dark of night. Both herself and he figure were asking Durai to come with them, and he stood in the middle, undecided.

    Until the end, when he turned his back on her.

    As she would try to chase him, she looked around, seeing everyone she knew. Nico, Alexander, Sam, the Priestesses from her church… They would all glance at her for a moment, and then they too would turn their back on her.

    Waking with a start, she shook the webs of the dream off.

    Durai had forgiven her for her lies. And after she left in a month’s time, she would have him to come back to. He was the only thing she would have left after she would give up everything else she had known.

    Feeling the need to have his arms around her, she turned to the side of the bed that he had slept on that night.

    But he too was gone, his side of the bed still warm from his body, but empty of his form.

    Feeling the strength drain out of her body, she bowed her head, and gathered her knees to her chest.

    Her eyes wetted, tears rolling down her cheeks.

    Never before had she felt so alone

  • ?

    [ Note to Readers: The following story, while not graphic in nature, may make some uncomfortable, or even blush a little. Those who do not care for stories of a more intimate nature, should read no further in this post. To those who are reading further, I hope you like the story I have written, and I hope you find it in good taste, and enjoy it!]

    "The Nature of Love"

    Shalia and Durai sat quietly across from each other, dutifully attending to the consumption of their meals. While some conversation would have passed between them, it was limited to vague comments and questions, and any pressing of the matter would quickly result in discomfort. Having both reached the point where they did not wish to give any more effort to pretense, they merely sat in silence, eating their stew, sorting out whatever thoughts each one had swimming around in their minds.

    Periodically, Shalia would glance up, examining Durai’s face- every curve of his chin, the lines of his nose, how his eyes were set into his face. Just looking at him brought such intense feelings to rise in her chest, making her want to tell him again, how much she loved him, and how thankful she was that she had met him. And to tell him…how sorry she was. Panic clenched in her chest and throat, making it difficult to swallow the sip of wine in her mouth. She had never meant to lie to him. No- not lie. She simply hadn’t told him all of the truth. ‘But it wasn’t my fault!’ a little voice would echo in her mind, drowned out by a much louder voice proclaiming her guilt over and over.

    From the moment she had seen him, she felt so strongly for him, and knew that she had to know him. But at the same time, worries of how young she was, and his age had welled up in her mind, reminding her how it wasn’t yet time for her to fall in love like this. It wasn’t in her plans, and circumstances soon wouldn’t allow for it. As much as she might want it, it simply wasn’t to be…Was it?

    Staring down at the table, Shalia thought back to a passage she had read once in a book, the author proclaiming that his writings to be the true nature in the way love occurred.

    “Love is not all pleasure, and often the pleasure of it causes such pain that it rends the soul to feel it. It is never convenient, but like all gifts of such an incredible nature, there is a responsibility tribute that must be paid to it if those who have been bestowed with such a thing wish to keep it. Even then, a hint of a whisper, the lightest of a touch, can shatter the bonds formed by this thing which we poets have named ‘Love’. With the pain and sorrow that follows it where ever it goes, it is a wonder that anyone would ever partake of it, but alas- the mortal heart has no guard against it’s oncoming, and it quickly tricks it into allowing it’s stay, whether brief or long.”

    She had known it was impossible for her to keep herself from falling in love with him, but never had she thought it would be so painful to eventually leave him. Sam was right. She would leave, and she would break his heart.

    Shalia’s thoughts continued to wrap themselves around her distress, when suddenly a small hin in the center of the room broke out into song.

    The subject being Kanen Hightower- Durai’s father.

    Looking up quickly, she saw that Durai’s face hand tensed in distress, gripping the handle of his spoon with ferocity and pain.

    Gods! How tired she was of this. Could not more than a few moments pass in a day in which wasn’t consumed by the legend of “Kanen Hightower, heroic figure of the land” just to give his son a moment to breathe?

    Exhaling in frustration, she slammed the palm of her hand on the top of the table, pushing herself away and out of her chair. Digging her fingers into one of the pouches of her dress, she located the key to her quarters, and then offered her hand to Durai. Looking at her with confusion, he took one more bite of his meal, then slowly laid down the spoon, and then lifted his hand to take Shalia’s.

    All but dragging him behind her, Shalia led him up the stairs and down the hall to her room. Briefly relinquishing his had so she could unlock the door, she held it open, gesturing for Durai to enter. Looking at the door, and then looking to Shalia, then back at the door once again, Durai nodded slightly, stepping inside. Shalia closed the door, and the air seemed to shift, making her aware too that something seemed different.

    Turning to meet the line of Durai’s eyes, she found him once again admiring the dress that he had purchased for her just that afternoon. That was what he was admiring, wasn’t it? Her stomach stirred, bubbling nervously and caused goose bumps to rise on her arms as her thoughts drifted to the possibilities.

    Stepping towards her, he lowered his head slightly, looking up briefly to meet her eyes, then down again, craning his neck so his mouth could find her neck. Sighing softly, her arms found themselves around the ridge of his back, holding him tightly to her. Hands found themselves in other places, touching, exploring, roving over each other’s bodies as Shalia’s and Durai’s mouths began to do the same. Gliding a finger over the top of her bodice, Durai’s eyes again met Shalia’s questioningly, his lips parted with a breath of passion.

    “What do you want from me, Durai?” Shalia asked him, resting her forehead against his as she allowed herself to catch her breath.

    Leaning his head to one side, Durai began to lay light kisses on her ear lobe, pausing to whisper in reply, “I love you Shay…I only want as much as you want to give me.”

    ‘I want to give you everything Durai, but I can’t,’ the words stuck in her mind, not quite being able to force them out. Instead, she nodded slowly, giving some sort of permission that she herself wasn’t quite sure what it entailed. “I love you too Durai,” was all that she could eek out. “I want you so badly,” she heard herself say, hearing the other half of the admission, ‘but I can’t have you’, following in her heart.

    Slowly, shaking hands moved to undo the laces of her dress, another pair to release the cord on his robe.

    Though hands moved slow, taking their time to explore, touch and feel in return, the girl and boy found themselves, perhaps too quickly, engaging themselves in a right which had existed for as long as men and women have existed in the world.

    A thing of beauty, a thing of pain and passage from one point of life to another. A reason that gave purpose to the bodies of men and women to be so extraordinarily different, and completely exquisite in the intricacies of their unique forms.

    In a night, the hearts of a young boy and girl, finding themselves in love, grew to suddenly include the responsibilities which bear on the heart of a man and woman.
    And as much sorrow as it might bring in the future, each one of them were sure that they would never take their decision back.

    Resting next to Durai later that night, she watched him sleep, his breath slow, and chest rising in measured contentment.

    To say that the experience had been as good as or anything like what she had read about in some of the Sunite texts, or heard about in the songs of bards- would be a complete falsity. It was different.

    It was nothing at all like what the stories said it was. The tales had lied.
    It was completely different.

    Shalia knew that each had done their best to try to express to each other how they felt, being awkward and clumsy at times, tender and instinctual in others. If they had been to step out of themselves for a moment, and to watch, they most certainly would have either cried in embarrassment, or laugh at how funny it all really was.

    Nothing but lies, a harsh voice intruded into her thoughts causing her chest to clench in pain and shame for a moment as she remembered her situation.

    Rubbing her palm down the bone of her breast, she forced herself to ease again, to breath slowly.

    It had been completely different.
    It had been Durai and Shalia, and their love between them- that was all she would need to remember.

    Shalia smiled softly as she drifted off to sleep herself next to her lover, guilty voices put to rest for now.

    The reality of making love with Durai had been infinitely better than what any of the books have tried to tell her, and she would never forget.

    Not for a long time after they both had gone away from this life.

  • ?

    Journal Entry I

    I have now been in this land for a few short weeks, and though it has been a small amount of time, I think my life has changed dramatically as a result.

    While I do miss Aglarond a little, one does have to admit that the variety of people here is so amazing. I’ve met half orcs, sorceresses, minstrels and barbarians alike. Some of them are quite pleasant and well spoken, while others… well, I suppose they just take a bit of getting used to. The most difficult to understand at times are the dwarves- their brogue is soo thick it’s a wonder they could even understand each other!

    I’ve met so many people, each one different and a pleasure to speak with in their own way. Well… for the most part anyhow. There’s Sam, who seems to have a good heart underneath all of his gruffness, but he’s usually too wrapped up in being grumpy. One day I felt that I had to scold him, in the middle of the forest. He kept implying that I was “Keeping Durai up at night” and dissuading his studies. Though nothing could be further from the truth (however, I will have to make sure that Sam doesn’t find out I loaned Durai one of my Sunite texts), Sam had been persisting for days with such comments of how I was a distraction. I really lost my temper, so I walked up to the big lug, and stood nose to… um well… chest as it were, to him. ‘MISTER SAM!’ I must have shouted so loud that anyone else in the forest would clearly overhear. ‘How dare you continue to imply that I do such things. I will have you know, though it is not any of your business, that I keep my own room, and the only one who sleeps there is me. And I do not sleep in anyone else’s room either! Now, you are a person of honor and I expect better conduct from you in the future. I am VERY disappointed. I really expected better manners from you Sam.’

    I think my words must have been overly harsh, for the entire time I was speaking to Sam, he was taking steps backwards, causing me to close the distance. And he kept muttering, “Yes Ma’am,” and “I’m sorry Ma’am.” I’ll have to apologize for frightening him I suppose.

    Durai, whom I have mentioned previously, I find to be one of the most incredible persons I’ve ever met in my life. While I have questioned before why it is that I wasn’t meant to be a priestess of my faith, and why I was to journey here, I have found that small pieces of the answer have fallen into place little by little. And I believe Durai to be an important piece, one that I will be ever thankful to Sune for. Though our affections for each other developed very quickly after we first met, we have both agreed that we are young, and we have plenty of time to grow with one another, and find out where our love for each other will take us. I have had the benefit of taking part in many adventures here since my arrival, but I find this particular adventure of love to be the most exciting.

    As for other people that I have met, there were a few in the past few days whom I have found particularly interesting. One being a sorceress, or “Sorceress of the Rawlinswood” she calls herself, named Tindra. Our conversation had been struck up when I had complimented her on her attractive clothing, and I think we became fast friends. She has an unusual accent though, as when she speaks all of her r’s seem to extend overly long.

    I have also made the acquaintance of Alexander and Nico, two of Durai’s friends, who seem to be fine men, and a joy to talk to. Both seem jovial and ready with all sorts of teasing and jokes, yet they both seem trustworthy as well.

    I have also found that there is indeed a priestess of Sune in this land, a small hin (or I think she might be, she does appear to be a bit elfish) by the name of Atel. She reminds me much of the priestesses of home, very wise and attentive one moment, and the very next off entertaining with song and dance. I was cheered at meeting Atel, for I had not realized how much I had missed my former home until just then. I shall have to remember to write the priestesses a letter soon.

    Oh yes! And lastly… I have met a knight! I REAL knight! I shall have to learn more about this man. I tried to question him on what it was like, but he kept putting me off by asking me about my faith and thoughts. Though he said he respected Sune, I believe that he thinks most of her followers to be like what many others believe we are. Simple minded materialistic twits with all the depth of a shallow pond. The man’s name was Thierulf I think, and he seemed to be a nice person to speak with. I shall have to seek him out to question him more, as well as show him that he is mistaken of Sune’s followers.

    Sune bless and guard the bonds I make and the hearts of those who have found a place in mine.

  • ?

    @013337aa11=X-Kalibur:

    @013337aa11=Shalia:

    the spiders of unusual size

    :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

    ((Don't worry. I don't think they really exhist. 😉 ))


  • @9055c8fb6d=Shalia:

    the spiders of unusual size

    :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

  • ?

    Part II

    It was not long before Sam and Shalia were lead to the Gypsies’ campsite, nestled deep in a forest that hugged the Nars pass. Through a sense of intuition given to the aged half orc by the grace of Helm, they had thankfully been lead there in due haste, though each minute not knowing if Durai was unharmed seemed like hours. The god Helm seemed to be answering all of Sam’s hastily made prayers for direction and assistance, though this changed upon reaching the camp. There was too much darkness in the people’s souls here, and simple intuition was not enough to show the path to Durai. Sam became even more frantic, began to shout and curse at his god in pain, then begging him to help him in this one last task the next.

    Watching as Sam shouted out his feverent prayers and argued with his god the next, Shalia stood behind him, her body drawn tight in fear and panic, only mildly aware that Sam’s frustration was bringing him closer to violence.

    I want to be the knight Moira. I want to be the one that saves somebody.

    What silly, stupid, childish words those are, Shalia thought to herself. I could never save anyone. All that she could do was watch as Sam did his best to bargain with Helm for a key to Durai’s safety. But it was obvious that even Sam, as large and battle worn as he was, did not know if he would be able to play the savior knight for his charge on this night. It might be that the next time they saw the boy, he would be dead.

    With a thought as to what would happen if they did not find Durai in time, the fear began to ebb away, replaced with guilt that maybe it was somehow her fault that Durai had been taken away. Maybe her wish was somehow responsible for this predicament, as if to show her, “Well, this is what you wanted. And it comes at a steep cost.”

    Snapping back to reality, she saw that Sam was still yet on his knees, his prayers becoming louder and more desperate. “Mistur HELM please! Nut ano’der one! Dun let me lose an’oder one…” Any casual passer by could see how the half orc’s heart was threatening to break, and how much he wanted to save the boy. Sam would have done anything for him. How much did Shalia want Durai as well? Afraid to find the answer to that, Shalia too fell to her knees, praying to her goddess, asking for her help. ‘Help Helm help Sam… Please Goddess, just… just don’t let Durai be hurt. Let us find him. Anything…just please help,’ words rippled through her mind. ‘Help him because…’ but she was unable to finish that thought, as help had arrived.

    And so help came, in the most unusual package of a tall human man named Rick, and a hin monk named Scutum. The pair, quickly learning of the situation, turned to ask the gypsies themselves, who had not seen fit to speak to either Sam or Shalia. Surely enough, they had seen a man and a group of others pass through the camp, carrying a large sack.

    “As for what’s in the sack?” said the shady looking Gypsy man, nearly grinning, “I couldn’t say. But I think- he went thata way.”

    Running off in the direction that she had last seen Sam, Shalia found him already gone. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted him, already setting out in the direction that the man had pointed out. Helm had granted his prayers after all. It seemed that many of the gods must have been listening this evening, or perhaps they were merely watching after Durai, just like so many here seemed to be.

    Jogging to catch up to the group, Shalia found herself deep in a part of the forest that she had not noticed before. As she looked around her, she noted the abnormally large spider webs hanging off of the branches in this part of the forest, and felt her stomach begin to clench painfully. What in Sune’s name could make such a large web? A loud thud sounded before her, followed by an echo of snapping twigs and crunching leaves.

    “I hate spiders,” Sam groaned.

    Normally, the declaration would have brought a smile to her face, if not for just in front of her, dropping out of the sky there before them was a group of spiders unlike she had ever seen before, or dared to be featured in her nightmares. Spiders so large, that surely they could easily consume a horse, and quite easily two humans, a hin and a half orc.

    Immediately, Shalia pulled out her bow, aiming at the spiders as the others charged them frontally. In awe, she watched as the three made quick work of the large arachnids, often slaying each one before Shalia could launch a single arrow. Seeing such bravery and skill settled the fears in her heart. Surely with a band such as this, they would have Durai to safety in short work.

    Pausing a moment, Shalia whispered prayers of thanks once again to Sune and Helm, for it was quite apparent that they had been listening.

    Finishing off the spiders of unusual size, they made their way to a cavern, Sam sure that Durai was there somewhere inside. Upon entering, they could hear Durai’s shouts, leading the band through the cavern to find him being held in a pit. Whomever this was who had taken him had left behind men to ensure that he was not taken back, but it seemed that he had underestimated the skill of the people who came to save the priest of Torm. As Sam lowered a rope to fetch Durai out of the pit, Shalia leaned against the side of the cavern wall, nursing a gash in the side of her abdomen. While the others had dealt with the guards easily, it was apparent that Shalia had not been ready for what they had to fight through.

    “My, you are delicious. I don’t think your boyfriend will mind sharing you with me,” whispered a cold voice brushing against Shalia’s neck. Drawing her breath sharply, Shalia held her body taught, afraid to move. Hearing Shalia’s whimper of fear, the monk Scutum quickly came to her side, eyes darting around the space to find what it was that had caused the girl distress. As suddenly as the presence had appeared, it was gone, but yet it had left Shalia with a feeling of terror.

    “Shalia!” shouted Durai, hurrying through the cavern hall to her, wrapping his arms around the girl in relief. Wincing in pain, she held him tightly with her free arm, still cradling her side with the other. Blinking, Durai pulled back, seeing that she had been wounded. “What did this to you?” he asked as he began to probe the wound, closing his eyes briefly to pray to Torm for aid in healing. Smiling weakly, she studied Durai’s face in relief, seeing that he had been completely unharmed. “I’m fine. Really,” Shalia smiled at him, trying to do her best to reassure.

    “Luts get o’ta hur!” Sam shouted from the back of the cave. It was clear that Sam had regained his sense of order, and ordering others about. “Yes,” sighed Durai tiredly, “I want to get Shalia to safety.”

    Nearly flinching at this, she could feel herself grinning faintly. She needed to be taken to safety? She was not the one who had just been kidnapped and held in a pit. Not feeling up to pointing that out, Shalia merely nodded, and followed the band out.

    As the group exited the cave, she made a mental list of things that she would have to do now. Firstly, she was never going to think wrongly of Sam for being over protective and overbearing of Durai. If nothing else, it had become painfully apparent how necessary it was to be on guard against all that threatened him. Secondly, she was going to have to say some extra prayers in thanks to Sune for the help she had lead to Sam and Shalia for recovering Durai. She didn’t think Sam would care to have it pointed out how she thought Lady Firehair’s aid had helped, so she would merely have to make up for his oversight. And… well, she would say some prayers of thanks to Helm also.

    Finally, she wanted to hold Durai and kiss him gently, telling him what she felt in her heart. Sune bid her followers to be open with their feelings, but more so Shalia wanted to tell him because she knew she could not be sure of what tomorrow brought.

    There were enemies hiding in the shadows, and tomorrow he could be gone again.

  • ?

    "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."- John Lennon, Beautiful Boy

    Part I

    Shalia spent the majority of her morning in study, thumbing through the worn texts written in elvish, a language she always had preferred reading in. Common simply didn’t seem to give the life to words as elvish did, she thought to herself, nor the same intensity or sincerity. Study was not an entirely unpleasant task for a Sunite, as the material to be studied was often poetry, literature, and philosophical works on the nature of Sune’s gifts to man. It was no longer necessary she supposed that she kept up the tasks of study and prayer that the acolytes were often given, as she no longer was on that path, but it gave her some warmth and guidance to do so anyway. She often remembered the other students complaining about their study tasks, something which she herself enjoyed. If they disliked what they had to study and it was such a trial, she wondered, why did they wish to serve Sune as priestesses? How ironic that those same girls who she had studied with, and tutored at times, were now fulfilling their vows to Sune, while she herself had been told that life was not for her.

    It was not that she did truly wish to be a priestess she supposed, but that she had felt she had done something wrong. That somehow, she had displeased her Goddess so much that she simply didn’t want this troublesome girl in her service. But yet…

    Words from long ago itched at the back of her mind, and she could almost hear Moira’s creaky voice.

    “Whatever anyone tells you Shalia, it’s the gods who decide who receives their gifts, not mortals.”

    Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Shalia felt the pangs of a headache ripple through her head. She was over thinking this matter, a flaw which she seemed to show all too often. She was sure she would find the answer in time, but until then…

    She let thoughts of a charming young man invade her mind, and began to wonder if he might be outside, waiting for her. Grinning to herself, she could not resist going to find out if her hunch was correct. Closing her books, she stacked them neatly beside her bed, pulling her robe over her head and clothing, smoothing down her hair and pinching her cheeks for color. Hurrying down the hall, stairway, and out the common room, she took care not to run into anyone, nearly failing when she spotted Misty following at her heals, threatening not to let her out of the tavern without a lengthy conversation involving ordering a drink.

    Arriving outside unscathed by ale, wine, spirits, barmaid or drunken tavern patron a smile quickly spread across her face as she saw the object of her affections sitting next to his keeper. A warmth spread over her, fluttering in her stomach as she walked over to Durai and Sam, curtsying to them both and giving her greetings.

    Quickly the group exchanged salutations, Durai’s warm and pleasant, Sam’s gruff and disapproving, at which Durai looked over his shoulder, glaring at his protector with an unspoken sentiment relaying that he was growing frustrated with this act of Sam’s. Somehow knowing that it was the best way to irritate Sam, Shalia flashed the brightest smile she could make without straining her cheeks, but yet put Liira’s followers to shame. Shalia only felt a small amount of guilt when surely enough it made the large half orc turn a most delightful shade of green.

    Somehow knowing what her intent was in the smile, Durai stifled a chuckle.

    “Shalia, I was hoping you would join me for dinner at the Whore,” asked the young Tormite priest.

    Instantaneously, Shalia looked at Durai with utmost shock. “Excuse me?” her voice creaked out.

    Flushing, Durai’s cheeks grew high in color, the priest looking ready to melt into the ground so that he might escape his embarrassment. “No, I didn’t mean that… Just… the Inn in Jiyyd… it’s named the Regal Whore…”

    A slow grin spread across Shalia’s face, nodding. “That’s a most interesting name for a place to dine. But yes, I’d love to have dinner with you there.”

    Durai smiled brightly, nodding and eager to set out on the trip that would take them north out of Norwick. But before they could leave, Sam intending to chaperone the two, a waitress came running out of the Boarshead, calling after Durai.

    They are most certainly relentless, Shalia thought to herself.

    The waitress asked Durai to follow her, telling him that she had some brief, but important business to discuss with him. Looking back to Shalia, his face seemed drawn.

    “Shalia, I’ll be back in a…”

    Shalia smiled, “Do not worry, I’ll wait here by the well.”

    Nodding, and flashing a smile of his own, he hurried after the waitress, Sam following behind, obviously not about to let his charge out of sight for anything.

    Seconds passed, turning into minutes. And Shalia waited at the designated spot. She itched to go inside, and find out what was taking so long, but she didn’t want to seem like Sam, thinking that Durai could not be left alone for a minute to himself. Pacing in the courtyard, a nervous feeling creeping through her, nagging at her thoughts. It certainly should not be taking this long. Giving in, she ran to the inn, pushing open the door with an ungraceful thud.

    Shalia’s heart threatened to explode in panic upon seeing Sam beating at a closed door, yelling Durai’s name.

    Soon enough, the door was opened. But yet that offered no comfort to either her or Sam, as all that was left in the room was the waitress, gesturing to a spot that concealed a hidden passage.

    Searching the passage, Durai was not to be found there either, and the waitress who had lured him into the room was no help.

    Turning to Sam, Shalia could no longer contain her panic. “He’s gone Sam! I… I…” she stammered, feeling more paralyzed by fear as the minutes passed.

    “Nuh!” yelled Sam at the girl, frowning, and clearly not about to deal with the growing hysterics she was about to experience. Yanking on the sleeve of her robe, he all but dragged her outside, and began to run, looking in every crevice. Suddenly, his head perked, panic drawing across his face. “Nut ano’der one. Nuh! Dun let dis happen to ano’der one Mister Helm!”

    Shalia watched in a daze as Sam run north to the gates of the village, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Stopping suddenly, he turned, looking at Shalia with a dose of frustration. “Wul? Com’on GIRL!”

    Blinking, she snapped out of her panic, picking up the skirt of her robe, running after Sam.

    The pair sprinted down the Nars’ pass, hope panging in both of their hearts that they would find Durai alive.

  • ?

    Once upon a time…

    Shalia sat at Moira’s feet as she worked with her mending. The warm fire crackled in the fireplace, giving the small cottage a warm glowing interior.

    “They were so mean to me Moira!” complained the eight year old child, mud streaked down her face and caked all over her dress of pale pink. “They said that I wasn’t allowed to go play with the puppies anymore, no matter what the farmer’s wife said. ‘Little girl’s wanting to be priestesses shouldn’t get so filthy in the mud’” she said, doing her best imitation of the Head Priestess’s voice, even scrunching her nose as the elder priestess did, just to emulate the effect of her slightly nasal voice.

    Moira, weathered and bearing the signs of old age, merely shook her head, laughing at the small blonde child sitting on her floor. “Yes, they are mean, aren’t they? But then, if you want to be a priestess, then you should heed their words. They are doing what they do for your best interests.”

    That was not what the little girl wanted to hear, obviously as she wrinkled her nose at the notion that anyone knew better than she what was her own best interests. “Well maybe I don’t want to be a priestess! Not if I have to be so prissy!” little Shalia snorted, rubbing her nose and getting more dirt on her face in the process.

    “You don’t want to be a priestess, eh? I thought you wanted to help Sune…?” asked Moira. She was not at all displeased at the notion that Shalia might be looking elsewhere to put her talents. The girl showed promise, but if she too soon chose the life that her mother had led, she might be cloistered in the temple for the rest of her life, and Moira knew how that would only stifle the little girl’s spirit.

    “I dunno… I thought maybe…” said Shalia, hesitant to continue her thought.

    “You thought maybe what?” Moira prodded.

    Shalia bounced up to her feet, and began to gesture grandly, “Well… Lady Caitlin reads me these really nice stories. Of knights and ladies…and how they fall in love, but the lady is always captured by an evil sorcerer or some other fearsome creature… But the knight always saves his lady love in the end through some daring act of true love! And I want to be just like that!”

    Moira laughed at the child’s antics, moving a delicate piece of pottery out of Shalia’s way before she toppled it over to the ground. “You want to be captured by an evil sorcerer?” she asked, pushing another piece of artwork out of the way.

    “NO!” shouted the child, shaking her blonde strands furiously in denial.

    “You wish to marry then?” the older woman asked, curious, and already making lists of young sons in the area that might make a suitable husband when Shalia came of age.

    “NO!” Shalia shouted once more, her face growing red with frustration that her friend didn’t’ already know the answer.

    “Then what little one?”

    “I want to be the knight!”