Fiction Fridays is hosted this week by Joanne Sher @ her blog, “An Open Book” To read and share more great fiction, click here!
If I could’ve wished myself away, I daresay I would have. “Your highness, your majesties, I’m flattered. Truly I am, but I don’t think I’ve made myself clear, you see, I don’t use my powers anymore.” I pushed back one sleeve to show the tattooed mark on my left wrist. “I can’t use them…because I don’t have them.”
Every single emotional knot twisted deeper into the coil of tightly wound sorrows. I’d already braced myself for their reaction, but I cringed beneath their stares as quiet gasps rose up from the courts.
“I told you this wasn’t a good idea!” Princess Gwendelia rose from her chair and swept to the doors, her regal robs fluttering in her wake. Piercing, mocking eyes zeroed in on her brother. “The next time you propose to waste the court’s time, think again, brother! My time may mean nothing to you, but they are the ones carrying out the orders that keep this kingdom running. Good day, council.”
Prince Leon’s blush was reflected on my own cheeks as I mumbled polite phrases and stole away to my chambers.
The Prince and I had been very good friends. I wanted to help him. Oh! I so wanted to help him. But I couldn’t and there wasn’t anything I could do about the troubles that had finally presented themselves.
It’s no use fussing over what I can’t help. The thought lodged in my brain and I shook my head to clear it, before reporting to the archery fields for practice.
After my powers had left, I’d taken up arching as a hobby. It was an interesting way to burn off excess anger and more often than not, the frustration I didn’t dare let others witness.
You see, when you’re used to throwing flames from your fingers, it’s hard to be ‘normal’ again. It’s harder when you know that the one, who took them away, is the same one threatening the kingdom…again.
I strung the bow and drew the first arrow. Out of habit, I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer. The first arrow sliced through the air and hit the target with a satisfying smack. I opened one eye.
Dead center.
A smile grudgingly resurfaced and I drew the next arrow, repeating the prayer and squinted at the target. The second arrow thwapped right next to the first.
“Nice.”
His voice automatically demanded respect and my body obeyed. I stiffened, head erect, lips pursed, turning to face him. “Your highness.” A tiny speck of my heart yearned for some sort of favor, anything to hint that an apology was not necessary.
“You do not have to use my title…I have told you dozens of times.”
A frustrated puff of air broke the awkward silence. “Yeah…I know. Leon, I’m sorry…I didn’t think that-”
“No apology necessary. Gwen can be a bit…difficult. I’m sorry to put you through that, but the council was all set to send you up front. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Couldn’t or shouldn’t?” I drew a third arrow, returning my attention to the target.
“Talia-!” The royal features twisted into a grimace. “If that’s the kind of thanks I-”
“I’m sorry.” I cut in, releasing the arrow. It landed neatly next to it’s friends, now a three cluster. “I didn’t mean that…I just don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired of it. I’m really tired of it, Leon. I’m fed up with the arguments that women can’t be in combat, I’m living proof of that and the last thing I need is to be stuck here in court when I could be out on the lines, at the very least keeping track of something. I don’t want to fight, ,but that doesn’t mean I’m useless!”
“I never said you were useless.” He scoffed. “Look, this is a bad time for this conversation, isn’t it? We’ll finish it later. I’ll see you at dinner?”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I jerked an arrow from the quiver. “I’m not half as dense as you wish I was. You signed the orders to keep me here under observation. Why? Did you think I’d turn against you? Against the crown? After devoting my entire life to all that you’re supposed to stand for?”
“Talia!” The anger unveiled itself with the abrupt way he spoke my name. “I will see you at dinner.” He turned on his heel.
I stalked towards the target, heading for the arrows. “Good day, your highness.” I muttered.
Dremlack is the only holder of the most powerful dark energy known to our kind. Someone else somewhere messed up and he was the result. In the last war, he captured me to take my energy and turn it black.
And so I wouldn’t forget our time together, he marked me with angry black scrolls tattooed around my wrists.
You didn’t have to be so rude.
The thought sent a wave of prickles up and down my arms. “I wasn’t being rude.” I told my conscience. “He was asking for it. Just like he always does. He says one thing and really means another, while the end result is even different from that. Friends don’t do that to each other.”
A great shout went up from the castle walls as I tugged the last arrow from the target. The wind ruffled my sleeves with a faint chill.
Chill.
The icy coldness of our realm rarely ever touches down on the lands. It seems Dremlack has returned to torture us with his dark presence.
I crammed the arrows back into my quiver, and ran to the castle. As I approached the safety of the huge, stone walls, things began to happen faster than I wanted them to. Flames engulfed the edges as stones rained down from the now stormy skies.
My feet refused to move as my world was overrun by flames. I stood, frozen, as every knot inside of me twisted deeper.
How dare he? How dare he ruin all that I have spent my life struggling for?
Something welled up inside of me that I didn’t want to understand. Pain erupted through my veins, coursing through my hands to emerge as white fire.
My powers!
The black tattooed scrolls sparked and faded, erased as my energies returned to me. I had a second chance.
With the last breath of freedom, I summoned the reserves of my courage. It is not in my place to judge the royal family, or the infantry that acts under their guards. But no innocent deserves death, because I could not set my own differences aside.
White fire poured from my hands, a flame that ate at the wicked flashes of red. It took more from me than I thought I had to give, but it offered the slimmest shred of hope as the energy swelled upwards into a giant wave of white fire.
I will myself to right this wrong…Dear God, please, take me.
Copyright 2008 Sara Harricharan