Shards of Clay

The great orange sun slowly rose into the pale blue atmosphere of the earth, pulling a glow over the city of Sundew like a yellow veil. The sun grew larger in the sky, lighting the entire kingdom. The farmhouses just outside the walls, the tiny villages miles away, and the castle standing in the city, great in height.

Sundew wasn't a large kingdom, nor a rich one. The king was easily persuaded and clumsy with great decisions. However, he had a heart, and there was little contention with other lands.

They had only one enemy, who happened to be neighboring them. There was no serious conflict at the moment, but the King of Sundew, Gen, was initially meant to be king of Starstream. His uncle deceived him (a simple task in this case) and took the throne. This angered Gen, but he refused to start a war. Instead, he married the princess of Sundew, Maurie, a still woman with a bland personality. He loved her nonetheless and the kingdom grew because of their loyalty to one another.

The city sat perched near the west border of the kingdom. The border itself was a slim brook referred to as Moondrop Creek. A dark overshadowing forest grew on the other side. It stretched as far as you could see standing in the highest tower in the castle of Sundew. The people of Sundew knew it was a warning from their enemies to never lay a toe into Starstream. And they never did. No one had since Prince Gen married Queen Maurie thirty years previous.

But that fact would be no more come September 13th, 1186. The following day of the current.

Presently, farmers departed from their homes and strode to their barns and fields, setting to work at once.

Meanwhile the people of Sundew began to stir in bed, stretching and yawning. Well, perhaps not all of the people. Most of them. For there were those still sound asleep and snoring. 

A particular boy of sixteen did the very thing. His mass of tangled brown curls hung over his eyes and his freckled arms lay tucked under his chin. If he wasn't snoring so loudly, he would have seemed to be at peace.

The boy's name was Mass

Or rather, his last name. He didn't go by the first, because it was dreadful, and he didn't want the world to know he bore such a terrible name. The name was Oddroff. He despised it, especially since he couldn't go by a nickname. If he did, he'd be Odd or Roff, and neither were pleasant.

He didn't know how he got stuck with it. His brother got a decent name, and that was Benjaman. Mass didn't despise his brother of course. Just envied him. In fact, Mass admired Ben very much, and strived to be like him.

Then there were other times when he was tempted to strangle him, like that very morning.

Ben woke early and cleaned up as usual. Mass always saw him as the perfect child.

Ben had finished making his bed, smoothing any visible wrinkles and fluffing his pillow. He turned to his drooling brother and the tiniest smirk grew on his face.

He strolled over to his little brother's side of the room, wooden boards creaking beneath his feet, and bent over him.

"Mass?" He said quietly, voice dripping with sticky sweetness. "It's morning time."

He blew air at Mass who turned over and groaned.

"Go away," He croaked.

Ben leaned over, wrapped his arms around Mass, and pulled him onto the ground. Then he began to make the bed, humming happily.

Mass lay on the ground behind him, livid. His fists clenched as he slowly got to his feet and glared at his brother who was still turned away, setting the pillow down with precise symmetry.

He spun around with an irritating smile. "Oh, Mass, I didn't know you were there. I've made your bed!"

"I hate you," Mass drawled, death glare so fierce it began to make him light-headed.

"Aw, I love you too."

Mass didn't stay mad at his brother. He couldn't, really. After breakfast they were friends again. That's usually what happened. Mass couldn't afford to loose Ben anyway. He had few friends, and he was privately afraid to be alone.

But he knew he'd always have Ben and Eralow at the least.

Eralow Stone was Mass's best friend. They'd met when Eralow went with her father to sell vegetables from their farm for the first time. 

Little Mass had being walking around the streets, imagining a world and each individual person's story. Some were quiet and peaceful, some were exciting and adventurous. Some ended all too quickly while others dragged on far too long. Mass had created many worlds and people in his head, and he felt responsible for them all. 

But when he spotted little Eralow with her black curly hair and green eyes, his thoughts were dashed away like cobwebs from a dusty corner and he rushed to her side, befriending her at once.

That was six years previous, and they stayed close friends ever since. They had their fair share of quarrels, but none too serious. 

Mass would see Eralow that morning. On the usual weekdays he'd only see her in the afternoon, but it was Saturday, the day the Stones went into the city to buy various things. Wooden spoons to sewing needles and dried meat to bridles.

Before the boy left, he took the pottery his father made to sell. That was how the Mass family got by. Mr. Mass was a potter and made delicate bowls and cups with a fair price. The youngest had the responsibility to sell these dishes on the streets.

He didn't mind the job. It was tedious and boring, but it was easy compared to some things and put food on the table. The only real big problem with it was he had to smile and speak charmingly to sell.

Mass didn't enjoy smiling, especially at people, whom he didn't enjoy the company of. Chattering crowds and groups of friends didn't appeal to him.

However, that morning he left his home with a rare confidence and change of heart to be social.

This aura of welcoming people in sold him quite a few dishes before his old introverted self returned. Perhaps he was weary of the long hour of grinning and speaking happily, or the tiresome walking up and down the streets. Mass tried to reassure himself those were the exact reasons, but he knew they weren't. He was sinking back into his shell again when his least favorite people advanced on him.

Rodrick Porter, Ulric Jameson, and Jackson Hill.

Mass cleared his throat, and quickened his pace away from them, hoping for the miracle that a kind stranger would purchase the rest of his dishes. But only in fairy tales were there times of great generosity such as that.

Rodrick called for him in the same taunting voice he always used to be irritating. It was high pitched and sing song, and he projected it better than Ben himself.

"Come on, Oddy, play with us!" Ulric echoed with a sniffling giggle.

Mass took a deep breath, trying the technique Ben advised he used. That was threatening  himself with the consequences of letting the boys under his skin. Ben did not approve of the bullying, as anyone else. Although, while he didn't like them taunting Mass, he didn't like his younger brother giving them the satisfaction of attention they so hungered for.

"Pretend you can't hear them next time and you'll stop getting punched!" Ben always said, who'd never dealt with the issue of bullies. He was always locked in his room studying sorcery. (In secrecy of course. Any nobleman or sorcerer would be offended to find a peasant acting upon the dream to learn sorcery. It was something taught only to noble bloods.)

"Just try to ignore them!" The constant argument.

And Mass did try. He tried to be mature and pretend he couldn't hear the boys. But with them calling him names and blocking his path, it was a lot more difficult than you'd expect.

"Hey, you ignoring us again, Oddroff?" Rodrick said angrily, stepping in front of Mass.

"Why, yes, I am."

"Then why'd you answer me?"

That got another snigger from Ulric that sounded like a hog being slaughtered. Mass gave him a death glare, and the boy shut up. Most did back away when he glared. Most, except for Rodrick who shoved him in the chest.

"Come on, now. Why don't you fight me? I'll bet you've improved since last time."

Mass had to admit his temptation. He'd always wanted to give the jerk a good beating, but it wouldn't do any good. He'd only get in trouble.

"Tomorrow, Rodrick, I've got dishes to sell," Mass said, voice calm and heart pumping widly with frustration.

"Yeah, you've got work and all that." Rodrick tsked. "Well, hey, I've got an idea! We can help you!"

"No, Rodrick, screw o-"

"Come on, don't make yourself do it all, Oddroff," Rodrick snickered, pulling a clay bowl from Mass's wheelbarrow.

"Hey, don't!"

But Rodrick had already dropped it. The piercing sound of shattering clay stung the air.

"Porter! How could you do something like that!"

"We're just helping you get your work done!" Rodrick said in mock defense, taking another dish. His sweet smile made Mass's blood boil in his veins.

"Stop it!" Mass hollered as it crashed to the ground, pieces cracking together into a mess of clay shards. He glowered and advanced on Jackson and Ulric who began throwing dishes as well.

He tried prying their hands away, but Rodrick pulled him back.

"Stop breaking them! My parents will kill me for it!"

They ignored him and went on sniggering and snickering while destroying his father's work. Rage burst through Mass's chest. With his head burning and legs shaking, he tore away from Rodrick, turned back round, and sucker punched his rival off his feet.

Jackson and Ulric broke away from the wheelbarrow with shouts of surprise. They grabbed their victim. Jackson wrapped his own arms around Mass's legs to keep him from kicking, and Ulric pulled his arms behind his back.

"Get off!" Mass screamed, furious with the obvious defeat.

Rodrick staggered to his feet, nose bent and bleeding. Tears of pain shone in the corners of his eyes.

"Augh, damn you, Mass!"

He stumbled towards them and threw an unsteady fist at Mass. It was unsteady, but it knocked the air from him all the same. Wasn't anyone going to help him? Surely they had brought attention on the busy streets. Was it because of the same excuses running through everyone's heads? Boys will be boys? They can work it out?

Mass groaned and grimaced as Rodrick went on landing his blows. He imagined the bully's fist going through straight through him, tearing so hard at his skin it broke.

It wasn't until he coughed up a drop of blood that he was genuinely worried.

"Hey, back down, really!"

And they did. Mass was surprised that they had listened,  but when he realized that they were looking up with their mouths agape, he knew they hadn't even heard a word he'd spoken.

  Mass went to turn as well, but Jackson and Ulric released him abruptly, and he fell.

Three sharp claps and cries of shock struck the air.

"You'd better get home. Now." 

An adult's voice. Thank heavens, Mass thought.

"Your parents will want you there when I tell them what you've done," It said.

"Mass, Mass!"

Eralow. Thank the angels in the heavens. Mass sighed with relief and rolled onto his back.

"Eralow," He said.

"Mass," She said, looking ready to cry.

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Your poor father. He worked so hard on those dishes and they go and ruin them."

Typical of her to be worried about the dishes instead of her own friend.

"Don't worry, Eralow, I'll make sure their parents know what they did. You all right, Mass?"

Mass looked up at Mr. Stone, Eralow's father. His furrowed brows and height made him look intimidating, but while he was unsmiling, he was caring.

Eralow pulled Mass to his feet and he smiled at her father.

"Yes, sir. Thanks for your help."

"You ought to learn how to defend yourself," Stone said, looking down at Mass with an expression that wiped away his fake smile. Eralow's father turned to his daughter with a pointed finger. "You watch out for him. Meet the family back at the walls in two hours."

She nodded with an eye brightening smile. "I will."

He nodded somewhat solemnly before leaving.

"Why is he so serious?" Mass asked, irritation trailing in his voice.

"You're just mad because he told you off," Eralow giggled lightly. "Come on, forget it and help me clean this mess up."

Mass groaned. "My dad'll kill me for letting his dishes get broken."

"I'd be more worried about Ben," Eralow said only half joking. "You'll get the money in the end, so don't get worked up about it."

With the thought of Ben giving another lecture on the matter of consequences, Mass began picking the tiny shards of clay from the ground and tossing them into the wheelbarrow.

Author's Note

If you see any typos, please inform me and I apologies!