Thulkondor's Children - Part One

A Story by DastaLouise19

Chapter One

Thin, delicate fingers pressed lightly against the iron grates over the one window in the room. Outside, birds fluttered by on some errand or another, oblivious to the sad, piercing green eyes that watched them from behind the barrel window.

“Sydenae, come away from the window.” The command, though gentle and loving, startled the owner of the green eyes and the thin fingers; a young lady of 17, a little over 5 feet tall, slender, with light brown wavy hair, which hung just below her shoulders.

With one hand still resting on the iron bars, she turned to face the speaker; an older woman with gray hair and a continuous blank stare on her face. How this woman could even contain such a gentle, loving tone of voice was beyond the girl's wildest reckonings " and her reckonings were pretty wild.

The older woman continued speaking in her unbelievably loving tone. “You wouldn't want Hyrikc to come back and find you dawdling, would you?”

The girl gave a quick glance to the window where her hand rested; raw cracked flesh intermingled with a single long scar running from her wrist to the sleeve of her tattered, faded graying-purple gown. The wound was a constant reminder of what happened to shirkers and lay bouts at Holvara Castle.

The girl's eyes drifted to the cold, stone floor, which her bare feet stood upon, and she bit her lip.

“What is on your mind, child?” the old woman asked tenderly.

The girl glanced up at the old woman. “What is it like outside these walls, Atalia? Certainly you would remember.”

Atalia -- for that was the old woman's name -- turned her attention back to the many potatoes that needed slicing. “I couldn't be expected to remember, Sydenae. My days of freedom were too long ago to be remembered.”

Sydenae -- the young lady -- gave one more quick glance out the window, then joined Atalia in her potato slicing endeavors at the wooden table in the center of the room. Soon, the old one could only shake her head in amazement as she watched her young assistant slice potatoes with speed and precision.

Of all of the slaves at Holvara, Sydenae was shorter, her hair lighter, her skin fairer, and her movements more delicate than those she had lived and worked with ever since she could remember. Of those she'd grown up with, she was the only one to possess green eyes, which still sparkled with a gleam of hope for something long desired, and a glow of some ever-burning fire from deep within her very being. Her height, hair, and eyes were strikingly different from those of her captors - a tall, fierce, warlike people with long, flowing jet black hair and fiery blue eyes.

She was clad in a simple cotton gown, which was at least two sizes too big for her, and had a coil of coarse rope bound around her waist. Her hair was held back from her face by a solid colored, grayish-blue kerchief.

After a while, Sydenae broke the hovering silence. “Atalia, did you know my mother?”

The question seemed to surprise Atalia, although her facial expression didn't change. She immediately began slicing her share of the potatoes again, though the rheumatism in her hands made this difficult.

“I do not believe anyone ever knew her, child,” she replied without looking up.

Glancing quickly over both shoulders, Sydenae leaned closer to Atalia and asked in a low voice, “Do you think she is still here, Atalia? Somewhere deep within the dungeons of this place?”

“Goodness child!” Atalia exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You are full of questions today!”

“I just cannot help but wonder,” Sydenae commented. “How have I grown up in this place where no one knows my mother? Her name. Anything.”

“Because,” Atalia returned, “long ago, the great Abbey of Tarrok, where we were sheltered, was attacked and many were slain."

"In the Great Tragedy?"

"Yes, child, in the Great Tragedy," Atalia continued. "Those of us who survived were taken captive and brought here.”

© 2015 DastaLouise19

Author's Note

I wrote this back when my mom was dying from cancer. Been trying to work a story around it ever since. Let's see how this goes....

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Featured Review

David Jae

This is engrossing and well-written. I like the imagery that you use, contrasting the birds in flight with her imprisonment. Showing her scar also shows what her life is like, without blatant exposition.

You have some odd use of exclamation marks that does let the narrative down a little.

E.g. She was clad in a simple green gown "which was at least two sizes too big for her" with a course coil of rope...
Quotation marks are not used that way. That is my only complaint, really.

Ganbare