68Some background on this story: I'll be updating this story reliably every Saturday straight to completion, so don't worry about me dropping off the earth/losing interest/not updating! The rating for the story is T for the time being; I will notify everyone if that needs to change.
I would GREATLY appreciate any encouragement or advice you can share with me, so please review!
Scars – Part I
"Frest? It is you! What in the world brought you way out here?" exclaimed Randt as he finished wiping down a table in the dining tent.
"Long time no see! You never come to my shop in Skolos anymore. I thought I'd check on my precious customer," smirked the merchant, though they both knew that Randt was hitting hard times financially and could rarely spend more than a few coins at Frest's bakery in the dark capital. He certainly wasn't the only one. Delicate foods were becoming increasingly difficult to sell in ZaKorr as the poverty level shot skyward and the authorities hardly raised an eyebrow. "Ha, truth is, I needed to get my wagon fixed. But it's sure been a while!"
"I haven't been able to go into the city much lately," agreed Randt, a shadow crossing his face, "I thought you'd have heard… this town has been hit by a plague. Nearly everyone is ill, including Hazel and Clary."
Frest's eyes widened. "And yourself?"
"So far, I seem fine."
Frest brought his fingers to his chin in thought. "A plague? Even your family…I'm so sorry, Randt. But…that's strange, I haven't heard of it hitting anywhere else. Where did it come from?
"It started here. I'm sure of it," Randt affirmed, with a hint of hatred in his tone that surprised his friend.
"You're certain? That's some terrible luck, for it to start here of all places."
"It's not just luck. That child – that demon caused this." The hatred was blatant in his voice now, along with a trace of fear.
Frest blinked at the uncharacteristic tone in his normally calm friend's voice. "Who?" he asked, confused.
"Did you notice a young boy sitting alone outside when you came in?" Randt asked, his voice dropping secretively.
"The one reading the book? He seemed like a normal kid to me, except for the ears. He's got to be Elven, right?" Although they were less conspicuous in a large city like Skolos, it was quite rare to find elves in rural villages.
"His parents are, but that kid is nothing but a demon. After he was born, everything started going wrong in this town."
"That sounds awfully extreme," Frest countered incredulously. "Isn't it just a coincidence that he was born when problems started happening? It's not just this town, but all of ZaKorr that's going to hell lately."
"You wouldn't say that if you knew him. On the night he was born, a red star appeared and the entire sky was tinted crimson. All our diviners agreed it was an ominous sign." Randt dropped his voice uncomfortably as he went on, "On top of that, they say the kid's green eyes were glowing unmistakably when he first opened them. Not just his parents, but the doctor and several others saw it. And he never cried. The doctors thought he was stillborn at first because he didn't make a sound when he was born. After that he cried almost constantly, but not like other infants – in complete silence. Then they thought he was mute, but when he was five he started talking along with the other kids his age."
"That does sound strange, but…elves are magical beings, right? It might be norma-"
"No, he has no magical ability whatsoever," said Randt with a dismissive flick of his hand. "He was sent to be trained, but the professor said he'd never had a student so devoid of potential. But a few months after he expelled the kid, he came down with an unknown illness and died incredibly young. A supposed friend of the kid's died similarly after getting into an argument with him. And now a plague with the same symptoms? Who wouldn't suspect something? If not evil, the kid has to at least be cursed!"
Frest scratched the back of his head. "That is pretty suspicious."
"The whole town's in a commotion over what to do with him."
"Can you tell his parents to get rid of him? Maybe send him somewhere else?"
Randt let out a bitter chuckle. "Who would take him?"
Both men fell silent for a moment before Frest reluctantly announced that it was time for him to be getting back to work.
Randt nodded and walked his friend to the door. Both men glanced uncomfortably at the child they'd just been discussing, who was still sitting against the side of the building alone, reading his book. Randt's eyes were accusatory; Frest's were full of a wary fascination. The boy just stared hard into his book and waited for them to leave.
"Frest, it's probably best for you to stay out of this area for a while, until the trouble passes over."
Frest nodded his understanding. "Take care, Randt. I wish you and your family all the luck this god-forsaken land can offer you."
Randt nodded grimly and turned back inside, closing the door behind him. Frest knew he would probably not see him again. He turned to head out of town and make his way back to the capitol before the plague found its way to him as well.
"I didn't cause it," a small voice said from beside him as the door thudded shut behind his feet. Frest looked down in surprise at the source of the words, who was still staring hard at the book. "It wasn't me. I didn't cause this plague!" the boy repeated desperately, and looked up at Frest with burning green eyes.
Frest blinked guiltily as he realized the boy had heard their entire conversation, remembering that Elves possessed very acute hearing. The supposedly cursed eyes staring at him, with the exception of color, were the same as any boy's eyes he'd ever seen, shy and naïve and proud. Still, the facts had to be considered. It would not be prudent to upset the child. "I know," Frest said with half-genuine concern in his eyes. "Here, buy your mom something good to eat tonight." The man held out some coins to the child.
The boy rose abruptly to his feet, closing his book, and gave Frest a proud look that made the man feel so guilty he wanted to climb into his shoes. Without a word, the boy turned and walked away down the street. The merchant frowned and watched him leave, putting the coins ashamedly back in his pocket. Treating a child like that – offering a gift to gain favor with him like he was some sort of fearful god… If the child cursed him, he thought, he might just deserve it. He sighed as he turned himself back toward Skolos.
The boy walked quickly toward home, ignoring the looks he received from those he passed on the street. He felt irritated with himself, but his thoughts were jumbled. Why had he said that? He was accustomed now to his reputation; his father had told him not to worry about such things, so why did it bother him if one more person bought into the foolish rumors? Maybe because he was from the outside, he'd thought that person might be different. He clenched his book against his chest and broke into a run, his boyish emotions telling him that once he was home, the problems would go away. But even running wouldn't help him escape the thought that had run through his head a minute before – that maybe they were all right, maybe he was a demon.
The child came breathlessly to the door of a modest but comfortable house with a small garden next to it and swung the door open, childish excitement taking over as he slammed the door behind him, safe from the world outside, and shouted "I'm home!"
"Rhen, is that you?" called his father's welcoming voice from upstairs.
"Yup!" shouted Rhen, pulling his shoes off and running up the stairs, swinging on the banister.
"Rhen! How many times have I told you not to swing on that?" his father chastised gently as the child bounded into the room and slammed into him with a hug that almost threw the older man backward out of his chair. His father was lean and healthy, but more suited to bookwork than physical activity, and so he stayed home and managed to make a very modest living writing out histories and collecting folklore. He had a long face with messy brown hair and kind hazel eyes.
"Where's Momma?" Rhen grinned.
His father's expression faltered slightly, then recovered its warm smile, "She's resting in her room. Let's not wake her," he said, ruffling the child's dark hair affectionately.
Rhen nodded and wished for a moment that he'd accepted that man's gift earlier and done as he suggested. But it was okay; he was a little afraid of his mother anyway.
"How was school?" his father asked.
"Well, actually I left early," Rhen admitted nervously, knowing his father wouldn't approve.
"Again? Rhen, if you want the other children to accept you, you have to at least try to attend school!" his father said gently.
"I had to leave. They were calling me that name again, and even the teacher wanted me out. Besides, I already know all the lessons. I memorized the whole textbook." Rhen said.
Rhen's father frowned. "What do they call you?" This was the first he'd heard of any bullying.
"Soran," Rhen said quietly, a little embarrassed.
His father's eyes flared indignantly. In the old Elvish dialect, it meant "cursed star". Such a cruel name… He finally understood that it would be impossible to integrate Rhen into society here, and it made what he had to tell his son just a little bit easier. "Rhen, there's something I need to talk to you about."
Rhen blinked at the stern note that had come out in his father's voice and looked at him curiously.
"Rhen, your mother is sick," the man said emptily, "there is medicine, but it's strictly rationed by the government. The only way we can afford to buy it, is to send someone into service of the Queen. If I go, no one will be left to earn money. The only option…is for you to go." Agony penetrated his voice as he spoke the last of it, and he looked at his son mournfully.
Rhen took a moment to register this sudden news; it was almost too big for him to understand, but the child had already known his share of reality, and quickly gained the meaning of what his father had just said. The misery in the older elf's voice alarmed him even more than the news itself, and he rushed to alleviate it. "Th…that's fine! Of course I'll go. I might even get to meet the Queen! After Momma's better, I'll come back…" he said reassuringly, straightening up with determination.
The beginnings of tears were in the man's eyes. The child knew so little of the world…to even joke about wanting to meet the Queen! And coming back… he was only ten! "Good boy," he murmured, his voice nearly breaking as he placed a large hand on Rhen's head.
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"Bye! I'll definitely be back!" Rhen called out to his parents, clinging to them with his voice as he walked off with two tall men in military uniform, neither of whom seemed particularly friendly. They had asked his parents a long list of strange questions about his age, his level in school, whether he could walk twenty miles without stopping, whether he could lift fifty pounds, etc-all of which his mother had calmly answered in the affirmative. His father had remained silent through the process, looking away toward the window even though Rhen kept looking to him for reassurance.
Rhen waved over his shoulder until his parents grew smaller behind him, and his mother turned his father inside and closed the door long before they would have been out of sight. When he could no longer see them, the fear finally set in on the child, and he had to set his face firmly to keep the tears from flowing down his cheeks.
"We've done it. Ha! We've done it, my love!" cried the woman to her speechless husband when the child had finally gone. "Our days of living in scorn are finally past. We can think about us again," she said, drawing him into her arms fondly.
"You…really didn't love him at all, did you?" the man asked regretfully as she held him.
"How could anyone love something so wretched? That child is cursed. Everyone in the village knows it, and someday you'll realize it too. Ever since he came, our lives have been full of trouble."
The man stared at her numbly. He could say nothing to her now. It was too late to stand up for Rhen. He had thrown his own son away. He had been too weak to lose her. He put his arms around her shoulders and returned her embrace, but her old warmth had gone. "You're cold," he murmured.
"What are you talking about, love? I'm perfectly fine."
He frowned and held her tighter to warm her. She was all he had left. He would not lose her as well.
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That's all for now! Please let me know what you think!