Page 1 of Sea of Stars

Part I - Mahlia

Chapter 1

I dropped to my knees, pulled the layers of worn leather from my shoulders, and stared at my reflection in the still water. The strange, shimmering scars had now appeared down the length of my left ribcage. For days I had tried to ignore the markings that had spread over my back. I had almost convinced myself that they were just the thin, raised wounds that the whip always left on my skin. There was no denying it now, though. These markings were different. As I drew closer to the water, I began to notice that they looked almost like symbols. I pulled my hand toward the closest scar and felt heat radiating off of it. Slowly, I brushed the burning wound with my fingertips. I bit my lip, trying not to scream, and plunged my seared fingers into the cool lake.

My body tensed, sensing the forge crow's presence before it made a sound. I draped the leather back over my shoulders and dipped the buckets into the crystal clear water. The coarse rope of the handles dug into my burnt fingers as I ran. My eyes were set on the black, iron gate when the crow’s caw pierced the air. The bright colors of the autumn trees created a startling contrast against the sleek black mountains that loomed ahead. My long, red hair danced in the breeze, trying to sense where the sound was coming from. Leaves crunched on the dirt path as I picked up my pace. I wasn’t going to be late this time.

The quickness of the second caw startled me. My hands shook and water splashed onto my leg. I ran through the entrance trying not to look up at the iron-coated skulls mounted on the spikes that decorated the top of the gate. They were a warning to us all to never try to escape the prison camp. After placing the buckets by the piles of food in the entranceway, I knelt down in the dirt with the other divinares as the third caw echoed around me.

"Cutting it close today," Jeremody whispered. He had a weary smile on his face. Jeremody had lived at the Iron Gates almost as long as I had. He was the closest thing I had left to a family.

"Find me after," I whispered back to him. It wasn't necessary for me to ask him to meet up with me. After the feast it would almost be nightfall, and we'd be ushered into our hut. I was anxious to tell him about what had happened at the lake, though. He would know what to do.

"Mahlia, is everything alright?" He must have realized how eager I was to speak to him. He reached over and moved a strand of hair out of my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I responded, distractedly. "Just find me, okay?"

"Always." His smile was bright now, and there was a twinkle in his eye.

I stayed quiet, not wanting to draw attention to us. Mortwar and his wife, Quinwar, were seated around a large wooden table to the right of the stage, surrounded by their thirteen minions. Their slimy, gray skin oozed with stinky sweat. They were all at least five times our height and about as wide as we were tall. A huge shadow passed over me as the large forge crow flew to his master. I waited for Mortwar to begin his feast, but the buckets piled high just sat there by the entranceway. I dared a quick glance at Jeremody. His eyes were closed and he was mumbling quietly to himself, probably praying. I had stopped praying years ago.

Deep laughter cut through the silence. The vile sound picked up all around us. My hair tugged uncomfortably, wanting to hide from the noise, but I didn’t dare move to cover my head. The floorboards creaked as Mortwar stood up and I locked my eyes on the ground in front of me. I heard heavy footsteps approaching and I hoped that Mortwar was heading toward the offering.

Their laughter stopped abruptly. Something splashed on my head and my eyes flew open, greeted by gnarly, yellow toenails the size of my hands. I looked up at Mortwar as he wiped his mouth with the back of one of his forearms. The stench of saliva filled my nose as I realized he had just spit on me. In his other hand was one of the buckets I had brought from the lake. His fingers laced around the side as if it was a cup, because to a monster his size that's what it was. I put my arms out in front of me and bowed low, my heart beating fast.

Ignoring my gesture, Mortwar picked me up by the back of my robes with one gray hand and carried me to the stage. I didn’t bother fighting, not anymore. My body hung limp, defeated. I stared down at the ground. The first time this had happened to me, I had left a trail of tears, crying and protesting that it wasn’t fair. But I had learned. I was stubborn when I came here, but ten harsh winters were enough to freeze the fight right out of anyone. I was a shadow of the person I once was. The vulgar ritual wasn’t meant to be fair. It was meant to be entertainment during their feast.

He tossed me onto the stage and my knees raked across the wood, splinters cutting deep into my skin. I grimaced and tried not to look at the bloody bar to the left of the stage that my body would be hanging from momentarily.

“Look at the water on her leg,” Mortwar’s voice boomed. “She tried to steal from me. Me!”

Boos erupted in the crowd. Mortwar slammed the bucket so hard onto the stage that it almost completely disintegrated. He had no control over his temper; none of them did. He silenced his men with a wave of his hand.

“Tonight we have dinner and a show!”

Their loud cheers seemed to shake the stage. One of his minions picked me up and another placed my wrists into the metal shackles that hung from the horizontal bar. I looked out at the crowd and saw Jeremody. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He always tried to protect me, but I seemed to be a favorite target for Mortwar's wrath. Everyone around Jeremody, though, looked relieved that they had not been chosen. We were all becoming just like our captors. My head dropped down and I saw the always expanding blood stains beneath my dangling feet. Once again I closed my eyes and waited for the whip to cut open my barely healed skin.

Everyone on the stage clapped and cheered as the whip cracked on my back. My body swished forward and the metal around my wrists dug in deep, but I hardly felt the pain of the fresh lacerations. All I could feel were my fingertips burning as I slipped into unconsciousness.

***

I was snuggled up next to my mother with my head upon her lap. The fire burned bright and my father was humming, poking at the logs.

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